


I hope that you don't bleed with me

by ScottieisStressed (TeheheHoran)



Series: Just a memory, now [5]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Burns, Connor Is A Mess, Evan is a mess, Heavy Angst, Injury, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Manic Episode, Panic Attacks, Songfic, This Is Sad, This will hurt, bc im a sap, but a good hurt, but its an accident, im sorry, super poetic, tbh this is bad don't read it, they have issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeheheHoran/pseuds/ScottieisStressed
Summary: Like all great things eventually these stars would burn out and explode, ripping their existence from the universe. They would take the stories with them as time forgot and they proved themselves inept and insignificant. But not just yet, for now they would stick like pin pricks in paper held up to the sun.or the one where they're both Not Okay and it's an Intertwined songfic





	I hope that you don't bleed with me

**Author's Note:**

> i hate this but here it is anyways. apparently i cant write fluff without following up with heavy angst bc oh god this hurts. bearcatkat suggested i do an Intertwined songfic so here we are. im sorry in advance you can bully me in the comments.  
> Make sure to listen to Intertwined by Dodie Clark so you can fully cry to this

Evan is unbelievably confused. Connor is standing over him, the full moon peeking over his shoulder and lighting his profile harshly. His hair is in a wild tangle of knots and cowlicks that flick out, inches long. He looks like a madman. He's also yelling. Evan has to take a second to evaluate the situation, where is he, how did he get here? As fast as his mind can process he remembers he's at Connor’s house, in his backyard specially. They were stargazing, Connor showing off his knowledge of the constellations and spinning wild tales of the greats that had their fates plastered in the sky; like all great things eventually these stars would burn out and explode, ripping their existence from the universe. They would take the stories with them as time forgot and they proved themselves inept and insignificant. But not just yet, for now they would stick like pin pricks in paper held up to the sun and Connor would tell Evan tales of grandeur while they lay on ratty old towels in the warm night. 

Back to the present; Evan acknowledges that he must have fallen asleep at some point or he wouldn't be missing time, though he doesn't remember it at all or even being sleepy. Ok so he's still in Connor's backyard, still dressed and mostly lucid. That still doesn't explain why Connor is standing over him, yelling and waving a cigarette around as he speaks. For a moment Evan hears Jared’s voice in his head saying, “mark me down as scared and horny,” but he files that away for later because now he needs to find out why his boyfriend is yelling at him in the middle of the night while smoking a cigarette. Wait, what is he even yelling about? Evan hasn't been listening, too busy trying to get his mind with the program, so now he actually starts to listen. 

“It’s math, it's all math! Dance and music? It’s all math Evan! All of it! It's all math!” Connor yells, eyes wide and manic. His hand is shaking when he brings the cigarette to his lips and Evan wouldn't be able to tell if not for the shadow dancing on his skin. Evan blinks slowly and tries to understand what he could possibly be talking about. Apparently fed up with Evan lack of response he grunts and starts yelling again, still talking about how everything in dance is math, that everything is made of numbers and angles, he's particularly adamant about triangles. Evan is thoroughly confused, he’s propped himself up on his elbows and is squinting, trying to see Connor as he paces the yarn under dim moon light. His skin is sticky from summer sweat, plastering his hair in waves to his damp forehead; a junebug lands in his ear and he flinches, batting at it wildly. Connor has paced the perimeter of the yard and has returned to glare at Evan who is still laid out on a cerulean blue towel that’s fraying at all ends. “Evan are you even listening to me?” He demands, eyebrows twitching and hands shaking at his takes another drag and blows smoke out angrily through his nose like a bull. 

“No?” Evan answers, starting to feel a bit wary because he doesn’t know how angry Connor is or how they both managed to get here. Connor practically growls in annoyance and storms off, swearing vehemently, he tears up grass from the ground on his way. Evan hastily gets up and hurries after the fuming brunet, approaching slowly in case he lashes out. “Connor?” he calls, tilting his head to catch a glimpse at the boys face. Connor doesn’t answer and Evan says his name again, this time reaching out to lightly caress Connor’s back.

Connor spins around instantly, rage over taking his face and Evan immediately knows he’s made a mistake, but can’t act fast enough. Connor snatches Evan’s wrists with both hands, Evan’s heart quivers in fear and he takes a sharp breath. Both their eyes are blows wide, from fear and anger. Connor hisses through his teeth, “don’t fucking touch me, Hansen!” Then he releases and shoves Evan, who can’t correct his balance fast enough and crashes to the ground. Pain shoots up his tailbone and through his back, muscles tensing to protect further damage. He lets out a little grunt of pain as the dewy grass dampens his jeans. Connor is still standing over him, fuming, and staring at Evan with something akin to hatred. Evan’s heart is now hammering wilding in his breaths are coming in short pants. He can feel the uncontrollable tears stinging his eyes as his mind runs wild, he tries to reign it in before things can go too far and he and Connor are both having episodes in a garden. That’s when he feels a sting on his forearm and looks to see a patch of skin that’s red and screaming in agony. His mind registers the injury and he can only assume that the end of Connor’s cigarette burned his skin when he grabbed Evan’s arm. Once the pain receptors send their frantic message to his brain, he screams. He wails in pain as his other hand reaches over to his wound and pinches around it, trying to stop the blood flow. For some reason he thinks this will dull the pain, but instead increases it as his dirty skin presses into burned flesh. He shouts in pain again and starts sobbing, tears running over his cheeks and breath hitching.

“Shit,” he hears faintly, them someone is grabbing his arm and turning it violently. He cries out again. “SHIT!” It’s frantic this time as hands flutter into his view, someone grabs his face and tries to lift it from where he’s ducked it against his chest. He refuses to move, necks muscles clenching and protesting as the tugging increases. “Come on, Evan look at me. Look at me dammit!” He whimpers at the raised voice and curls into a protective little ball. The person who’s touching him scrambles away and Evan sits in the eerie silence of night as he hears a door open and footsteps disappearing into the distance. He tries to think past the pain and calm himself down. He’s obviously not going to die but his mind is telling him that anyways. He starts to whisper it under his breath as the hurried footprints return. The person crouches in front of him and is shushing him in a soothing voice. 

“I’m gonna die,” he tells them, shivers running through his body 

“You’re not gonna die baby, you’re not gonna die,” their voice is cracking from stress and they sound slightly hysterical. “Hey, hey Ev, you’re ok. I’m going to make it ok babe. Can I touch you? I need to take you inside and take care of you. I’m gonna take care of you Evan. I’ll make it all ok again.” They keep telling him this and Evan starts nodding because his body is relaxing, obviously he trusts this person. There are long, lanky arms tucking under his legs and cradling his back, then he’s being pressed against a sturdy chest and he tries to time his breaths to the heartbeat hammering in his ears. But maybe that’s not a good idea because it’s beating frantically too. Yeah, scrap that idea. 

“I’m gonna die,” he tells them, and says it over and over because that’s all he can do.

“No no, no Evan, no baby you’re not gonna die. I’m going to take care of you. Oh this is all my fault.” Maybe that last part Evan wasn’t supposed to hear. He’s being jostled as the person who carries him runs to wherever they’re going, his foot bangs against something as they take a sharp turn and makes a loud banging sound. Evan hopes he didn’t break anything, that would be bad. The person carrying him apologizes and then he’s going up what he thinks are stairs. He’s deposited quite unceremoniously on a toilet and has to adjust his eyes to the harsh florescent lights that are beaming from a fixture over the sink. The person sprints out of the bathroom and down the hall, banging on a door. Evan tries to block out the over stimulating senses and thinks of his mother’s voice, telling him he’s ok. He imagines her soothing hands running through his hair and holding him close, loosely so he doesn’t feel trapped. Evan closes his eyes and brings the collar of his shirt up to his mouth, he clamps down on it and chews, feeling his snot and drool being soaked up. Distantly, he registers voices whispering, they sound angry.

“You did what!?”

“I burned him! I know I fucked up Zoe, I don’t know what to do. You have to help me.”

“Connor! How could you do that to him! You burned your boyfriend with a cigarette! That’s abuse!” One is yelling now, it sounds like a girl.

“Goddamnit Zoe I know! I know I’m a shitty boyfriend, I fucking burned Evan! Please help him, I can't touch him. I can’t hurt him again.” Oh now they’re both yelling, that doesn’t settle well with Evan and he starts to hyperventilate, his breaths come out in ragged, short gasps. Someone swears and two sets of feet appear on tile floor after he cracks open his eyes. 

“Evan,” says the girl, reaching out to him, “hey Evan. Hey I need you to stand up and stick your arm under some cold water for me.” He doesn’t move. “I’m going to move you ok? I need to do this fast.” Evan lets himself be moved by gentle hands that shuffle him to the sink where delicate fingers draw his arm away from his face and lets icy cold water flow from the faucet onto burned skin. He gasps and gives a little cry of pain at the feeling, there’s a whimper of pain from the other person to accompany the girl’s sushing.

“Connor go get the aloe plant and an ice pack.”

“But-”

“Go!” Their footsteps fade away, the girl speaks to him softly, “Ok Evan, grab my hand and squeeze as hard as you can, distract yourself from the pain.” Evan does as he’s told and let’s the sound of the water sooth him. 

Eventually his breaths calm a little bit, still interrupted by the occasional sob as he comes back to himself. He recognizes that he’s being taken care of by Zoe and that he’s squeezing the life out of her hand, so he loosens his hold. He still can’t speak so he let’s the water do all the talking, they stand in silence as the water numbs his nerves. Connor reappears in the doorway with an ice packed wrapped in a towel and possibly the biggest aloe plant Evan’s ever seen. Zoe sighs, “I didn’t mean the whole plant Connor, just like a piece of it.”

“I panicked,” he explains and shuffles around Zoe to set his findings on the toilet. He hovers behind Evan, not knowing if he’s allowed to touch. Evan whines a bit and reaches out at a snail’s pace to bat at Connor’s limp hand. Connor gets the message and suddenly he’s wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms as Connor tucks his head down to kiss Evan’s head. Then he promptly starts to cry into Evan’s hair, great. In his mind Head Evan is holding his own Head Connor and kissing away his tears.  _ ‘EVAN YOU BETTER FIX THIS!’ _ He yells as he baby talks Head Connor. Now Evan wants to tell him to go fuck off a cliff, but then he’d have to deal with two crying Connors and he can’t even handle one. Speaking of Connor, he’s muttering self hatred into Evan’s hair and Zoe is agreeing with him after every statement. “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Yeah you are.”

“I can’t believed I burned you Evan, I didn’t mean to. This is the worst mistake of my life.”

“It sure is.” It goes on until Evan can find his voice.

“Zo, stop,” he slurs, still not sure if he can say more. She looks at him annoyed but complies, instead flicking Connor’s ear. Connor lets her and says he deserves it as he tightens his arms around Evan’s waist.

After a few minutes Zoe turns off the cold water and asks to Evan to rate his pain. He says a six and she starts to gently wash the burn with soap and warm water. She pats his arm dry with a towel and asks Connor to hand her a broken piece of the aloe plant. Evan watches the clear goo touch his skin and he hisses at the contact. The Murphys soothe him as Zoe spreads the aloe over his burn and then reaches under the sink to get gauze and tape. She wraps his arm and gingerly lays the ice pack on top of it. 

“There, all done, just make sure to keep it elevated and don’t lay on it. I suggest you two get some sleep,” she looks from Evan to her brother and shoots him a glare. “Connor….I’ll talk to you in the morning.” She leaves the bathroom and shuffles back down the hall, shoulder’s slumping in exhaustion. Evan watches her go, feeling immensely grateful but also thoroughly exhausted. He leans back against Connor’s frame and the taller whispers into his flattened mop of hair.

“Yeah, let’s get you to bed.” Evan feels a kiss being pressed against his head as Connor herds him down the fall, flicking off lights as he goes. Connor ushers him into the room and sets him on the be. He goes about taking off Evan’s shoes and jeans, handing over a pair of sweatpants in exchange. They both change into their sleepwear; Evan keeps on his shirt so avoid injuring his arm while Connor sheds his shirt that now reeks of tobacco. Connor fusses over Evan as he pulls the duvet tightly around him and props his arm on piles of pillows. Once he’s satisfied, he turns and starts to leave the room, making Evan’s heart stutter in panic as he shoots up in bed. All of Connor’s hard work tumbles around him, how fitting. 

“Where-where are you going?” Evan is wide eyed, trying to see in the darkness as his hands quiver in his lap. Connor sighs sadly and turns his back to the bed, staring at his socked feet. 

“I’m going to sleep downstairs on the couch,” he explains, forcing himself to take a step unto the hardwood that lines the hall, leaving to comfort of cream shag carpet and a warm embrace. Evan is sitting in this comfy bed that now feels like a coffin, all alone and miles away from Connor. HIs heart sinks and he’s scared, he doesn’t want to be alone. Connor is so far and so cold, shying away when he’s the thing Evan needs. A knot has lodged itself in his throat and it aches, it cuts off his airway until he can’t stand it. Connor is stuck behind a wall of bulletproof glass and Evan doesn’t know if anything can break it. 

“Don’t.” Evan says wetly, choking on the end. The word is so full of pain and anguish that Connor’s chest clenches and he lets out a ragged gasp. Evan is crying again, silent tears sliding down his cheeks beautifully, like liquid silver bleeding from his eyes. Evan watches the glass fracture, spider web lines spreading through his vision, distorting his view. Connor is choking on words impossible for him to say, he can’t think of a single thing to say. They both stay in silence, shaken to the core and terrified. Evan can see it now, Connor will leave him, say its for the best. They’ll both tumble down into a darkness blacker than the night sky they looked at only hours ago. But he can’t decide which is worse, it becoming reality if Connor moves another inch, or waiting for the inevitable to happen. They both toe the line, right on the cusp of destruction, and over what? An accident, an accident Evan’s not even upset about. 

They’re frozen for what seems like hours, the air is deathly cold and Connor’s blood stops running, leaving him a dead corpse. The glass won’t crack any more and they’re both breaking. In his head Connor is screaming, bloodying his knuckles on the chipped barrier, the clear razors cut his skin. He doesn’t want to hurt Evan any more, he  _ can’t _ . But he can’t leave either, for his own sake. Maybe it’s the most selfish thing he’s ever done but he moves. His muscles twitch and he uses all his strength to turn around, to finally break it all. 

They both watch the glass shatter and can finally breathe again, little diamonds dusted around their feet. Evan watches as Connor numbly straightens up, the dark lines under his eyes make him look a thousand years old. He’s worn thin like a favorite tee shirt but with none of the love, and all of the burden. Connor walks back into the room and climbs into the bed, turning to look at Evan. Rough, shaking fingertips dance over the supple skin of Evan’s cheek, tingling and stinging all the same. Evan turns his face into the hand and soaks up all the love he can through this tiny caress. 

“I’m not mad,” he murmurs into the thin skin of his lover’s wrist, tracing the thick blue lines and discolored scars with his eyes. Connor practically sobs, twisting his fingers into Evan’s hair and pressing his face into Evan’s collar bones. Evan felt like the  _ Pietà _ at St. Patrick’s, the sight of Connor paints the picture of heartbreak and longing. Evan holds tightly to Connor as the other boy assures himself that Evan is alive and real, able to to touch and to hold. He won’t fade away into the night and leave Connor struggling to keep his heart beating, choking on air. 

Time passes stubbornly and eventually they lay together under the sheets. The fabric rustles like a tarp, but to the touch is cool and frictionless. Evan rests his face on the warm skin of Connor’s chest. He craves the feeling of sensitive skin against his own, the smooth expanse of flawless cutis dotted with fine hairs. They twine together like knotted string in a loose bundle of thread, legs crossed, a knee between a thigh, arms where their own can’t reach. Connor’s exhale blows wisps of curls about. He buries himself as close as he can into Evan, wanting to meld together and never leave.

_ Skin. Heat. Hair in your mouth, feet touching feet. Oh you, and I. Safe from the world, though the world will try.  _

They lay and whisper, Connor confessing his sins at the altar and begging for forgiveness. Evan is a merciful God and holds him still. He says assuring prayers that float across Connor’s pale skin and sink into his soul. His lips tickle and raise bumps along Connor’s skin. The boy’s dark nipples pebble from the sensation of heated lips pressed to close. Evan listens as a crackling voice like wood in a fire spills its guts. Connor tells of the horrors that overtook him. He went out of his mind over a fever dream he couldn’t control, he desperately clawed for an edge in the fight against himself. Only the harm he’d inflicted brought him from his fight and he came crashing to an unforgiving reality. Connor shakes as he relives his actions; the look of terror on Evan’s face imprints itself on his eyelids. Evan comforts him and tells tiny tales of childhood joy. He takes away the darkness and replaces it with a light brighter than Connor’s ever known.

_ Oh, I’m afraid of the things in my brain. But we can stay here and laugh away the fear. So breathe, breathe with me. Can you drink all my thoughts? Cause I can’t stand them. _

Connor stares in wonder at the body in his arms, eyes shining with the praise of a thousand tempest-tossed souls. Like a babe to a mother, desperate and hungry for love. Evan is an object permanence that Connor can never rid, the only thing he sees. Evan is his all, his whole being. When he’s near it feels like every shackle and chain breaks away so that his tired body can rest against internal battle and rage. Evan is Connor’s weakness, he propped on a pedestal too high to even see. Connor realizes that he can’t live alone, but doesn’t know if Evan can live with him. Connor has too much torment for the both of them. He can’t drag Evan down with him, but he can’t let him go. He says as much, that he fears his own mistakes will bring the untimely death of a happiness he never dreamed could happen. He’s drunk on it, the heat and the touch, the idea. Connor praises Evan like a greek god, he'll sacrifice a million lives to keep him appeased, and can never let his own needs come before his love’s. Evan is his Psyche and he will hide himself away for his safety, he only hope the wax won’t burn them both in the end.

_ Intertwined. Free. I’ve pinned each and every hope on you. I hope that you don’t bleed with me. _

Evan assures him not through the pressure of gentle kisses. They trail across his sternum and up his neck. Each touch lights Connor on fire until there are lips on his own. Evan moves his lips languidly, trying to comfort and love. Connor kisses back feverishly, desperate. Their tongues meld together and Connor gasps, he can’t get enough. The sweet taste of his lover’s flesh is better than any drug or the smell of sweet summer air as it blows through his hair. He relishes in the slide of spit slick lips on his own, teeth nip at him lightly and he shakes with pleasure. They kiss until their lips are red and swollen, Connor presses his fingers to his own and delights in the tingle. Evan smiles at him and lays one last kiss to his lips as he melts back against Connor’s chest. Connor counts his blessings until he can’t think anymore, petting Evan’s head until his breath even out. He slips into sleep and lets Evan’s weight keep him from drifting away.

**Author's Note:**

> i might be taking a break from this series bc ive run out of ideas. i have ideas for a fantasy fic where connor is a dragon and evan is a magic user sooo let me know if you'd be interested in that. or leave me ideas bc idk where to take this. 
> 
> Did you enjoy this? Leave kudos and comments, they make me very happy and inspire me to write. Want more? Be sure to read the other works in this series and get to know the tree bros and Head Evan.  
> you can follow me on tumblr @scottieisstressed if you want to see me be gay, shitpost and obsess over various things


End file.
